said he was going to scare that son-of-a-bitch so bad he------"
Her voice trailed off.
She stared at him pleadingly, the blood darkening the
yellowish cast of her face. She shook her head. " I can't say
it," she said.
" Is it because he used strong language?" Mr. Munn asked.
11 It was right strong, you might say/' she answered.
"That's the reason you don't want to tell me," he de-
manded, " not because he said something you don't want me
to know, something incriminating?"
"That's the reason," she admitted, and wet her lips. "It
was strong language. I can't say it myself. Not in front of
"Well, tell me the rest," he ordered. At that moment he
had begun to feel; for some reason, that Bunk Trevelyan was
She told him how her husband went to town, walking in,
the day Duffy was killed. When he got back from town she
was out hilling up some hills for some late squash. When he
got home he got his hoe and came on out to the field with her.
The next day somebody told them old Tad Duffy was killed.
He was stabbed and left by the road in some buckberry bushes.
That was all they knew till the sheriff and two men came out
and got Trevelyan out of the lot where he was milking and
took him to jail.
MFm going down to the jail and talk to him," Mr. Munn
said. " You better wait here till I get back. I won't be gone
He went down the stairs, knowing that when he got back to
Ms office Bunk Trevelyan's wife would still be sitting, very
erect, on the edge of her chair with her hands clasped in
painful motioalessness on her lap. But at that time she had
been IB no true sense real to him. It was not until he "saw her
im her own house, the day when he went out there to ask her
ftgtin abmit the quarrel before Tad Duffy was killed, that he
VDdmtaod her to be complete and individual, the centre of a